A Controlled Chaos
by madelinegemma
Summary: The stress on the Ground requires all members of the 100 to make difficult decisions, but none more than Clarke and Bellamy. When those choices (and the consequences) catch up to them, they need to find comfort in someone who understands their need for control in their lives. But what they find instead, is something more along the lines of passion that only fuels the chaos...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Electricity**

Clarke was shaking. Her hands trembled as she held them before her bright blue eyes, which were shining with pooling tears. She stumbled out of the pod, blindly making her way out of camp, bumping into people as her feet blankly took her away from the pain she so desperately needed to leave behind.

Outside of the camp, she braced herself against a tree with one arm and heaved, vomiting up all the words she wished she could have said and all the missed opportunities she was a party to. Clarke sank slowly to the ground, sitting with her back to the tree and put her head in her hands. _Breathe, Clarke…_ She told herself, slowly rocking back and forth unaware she was doing so. _You couldn't have done anything. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not –_ and then a cry escaped her. It broke through her lips without a warning, and the tears started to cascade down her cheeks like a dam breaking. Her rocking intensified as her sobs increased.

They had done everything they could. They had sent up the flares as soon as possible. And yet, they were unable to cease the flow of bodies from the Ark. From the Ground, she was usually able to think of them as distant deaths, unrelated to her, but not now. Instead she could only gasp as she thought about how many of them she knew, which one of her friends had parents who were dropped like dead weight, sacrificing their oxygen so the others could last a few more months. _If only I had sent_ _the flares even a minute earlier_. She dry heaved again as the thoughts raced through her mind.

Eventually, Clarke regained control of herself. She wiped her eyes with the back of her mud-stained hand. _If only we had been able to tell the Ark that we were okay… that the Ground was livable… All those people…_ She felt the lump in her through returning so she decided to channel her thoughts in a different direction, one of anger. _If only Bellamy hadn't thrown away Raven's fucking radio…_ She grasped the nearest rock and hurled it into the forest, letting out a scream somewhere between anguish and frustration. She cursed Bellamy's name out loud. Then she heard the watch leaving the camp and straightened up. Clarke, the flinty steel back in her eyes, stalked back into camp and directly into Bellamy's tent.

Bellamy was bent over a crate that he doubled as a desk, inspecting bullet casings. His t-shirt was stretched taught against his broad shoulders, and you could see the muscles moving in his back as he brought bullets before his eyes, studying the gunpowder inside. His shaggy black hair had grown noticeably longer as their days on the Ground added up. It hung down to the nape of his neck. The muscles in his arms flexed as he ran his fingers through his hair. Clarke hesitated only a moment before storming over to him.

"Why the fuck did you get rid of Raven's radio you selfish bastard!" Clarke shrieked, startling Bellamy who hadn't noticed her come in. "You… You are responsible for those people. All those innocent people…" She felt the tears returning and shook them away with a flick of her head.

Bellamy whirled around to face her. His eyes were shining, though it was hard to tell whether it was due to his anger back at her or a deeper guilt at what he had done. "I don't remember inviting you into my tent, Princess," he spat back at her. Anger. At least right now, the look in his eyes was definitively anger.

Clarke ignored his comment. "How could you…" she continued. "Egocentric fucking—" she raised her hand to slap him, unable to control the trembling in her fingers as she did so.

Bellamy grabbed her wrist above her head and stepped closer. They were inches apart, face-to-face. "Listen here," he whispered. Clarke was never intimidated by Bellamy, even though most of the rest of the 100 were. But she had never seen him like this. Then again, she had never pushed him this far before. His usually sarcastic and mocking deep voice was quiet. His grip on her arm tightened. "You know what I did to get down here, to get a seat on that drop ship. I don't think it's egocentric to do something to save your own life." He released her arm and shoved it away, stepping back, his eyes still glaring at her.

Clarke took a deep breath before stepping forward directly in front of him again. "I know what you did, but Jaha is alive! And, either way, _you_ are not the only person of importance. _You_ are not the only person up there," she gestured towards the sky. " _You_ are not the only person on the ground." Clarke pushed him in the chest, hard, as she yelled the last words. Her whole body was shaking now, with fury, sadness and a full-body emptiness inside her.

Bellamy stumbled a step backwards at her push, but caught himself quickly. His eyes flashed. He rapidly closed the distance between them, pushing Clarke back until she was against the wall of the tent. Clarke raised her arms to push back, struggling against his hold. After a few moments, Bellamy pinned both of Clarke's arms above her head. "Okay, Princess, you want to fight?" He murmured, his face mere inches from hers.

"Don't call me that," Clarke spat back at him, making futile attempts to break his grip. His hold only tightened.

"Why?" Bellamy smirked. "Is your Spacewalker the only one who can call you Princess, Princess?" Clarke hated him in that moment. She hated him with a passion that burned all the way through her. And yet, her heart was still racing as he moved his face even closer. He was whispering now, "I didn't know Jaha survived. I thought that if the Ark knew the Ground was survivable, they would come down here. Then, I would die. And I'm pretty sure that despite this little display, you wouldn't be so happy if I was gone, now would you, Princess?" His eyes were still gleaming with anger, but there was something else now. "So, I did what I thought I had to in order to save my own life. Now, I know that I fucked up. But there's nothing neither you nor I can do about it. It's not as if your past is squeaky clean. You don't see me breaking into your tent to hit you and fight with you about what's already done, do you?" He was breathing faster now. She was close enough to see every freckle on his face. "So, Princess, if I let you go, are we done with this?" His chest brushed against hers. Clarke felt electricity coursing through her body. Her mouth seemed to have lost its function, so she merely nodded in response.

"Good," Bellamy released her arms, but remained in his spot for a moment more. Clarke kept her arms above her head. Both of them were breathing heavily. Their eyes were locked.

Then Bellamy stepped away. "Now, Princess, if you please, get the fuck out of my tent," he said, almost conversationally, his voice giving away nothing about the situation that had just passed. Clarke took a quick breath, and, mustering all the dignity she had left, walked slowly out of the tent. She shook her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she left, making sure Bellamy saw that she was in no hurry to leave.

When she had gone, Bellamy collapsed on the edge of his bed. His heart was pounding in his chest, and a fine line of sweat had formed on his brow. The anger that had flared up inside of his at Clarke's accusations was slowly ebbing away, but the heat that sparked when he was holding her against the wall, his body touching hers, was still smoldering inside. He put his head in his hands. He knew how badly he had messed up when he ditched the radio in the river. He had wept about it mere hours before Clarke had come. There was a pit in his stomach, for all those lives he had lost, that he was sure he would carry with him for the rest of his days. He was so, unbelievably sorry. He raised his head from his hands, a determined look now in his eyes. He needed to make sure Clarke knew that. When he thought about having another interaction with her, this new spark inside of his burned a little stronger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Sparks**

Night had fallen. Clarke had spent the remainder of the day keeping herself as busy as she possibly could. She reorganized the storage of their limited food, helped Raven for a few hours to scavenge parts she deemed useful for restoring communication with the Arc, studiously avoided both Finn and Bellamy when she saw either of them approaching, and scheduled the watches and guard for the next week before even having a moment to herself. And, unfortunately, as soon as she had enough time for her brain to think original thoughts, she immediately regretted it.

She put herself on the first watch of the evening. Clarke was still unable to get used to the beauty that was around her while she sat in one of the makeshift lookouts circling the home of the 100. Their time on the Ground so far had been far from easy. But, despite all of those obstacles, they were on the _Ground_. It was something she had always dreamt of, and, it in was times like these when she was low on hope, that she needed to remember how much they had accomplished and how far they have come.

Clarke sat with her back against the rough wooden wall of the lookout, these thoughts floating absently through her mind. Every time the memory of the hundreds of bodies hurtling through space drifted towards the forefront, she pushed it forcefully away. Instead, she thought about the number of situations she still had to deal with.

 _I need to talk to Finn_. She groaned at the thought. It was a certain comfort that Clarke desperately had needed, and she was able to find it in his arms. But then Raven arrived. Before her drop ship landed, Finn hadn't even mentioned her existence, let alone their complex relationship. And that betrayal had burned Clarke to the core. She not only felt like she was misled, but she had considered Finn her closest friend on the Ground. He had supported her this far. Their one night together had been necessary for both of them. They were feeling alone and were together, in a bunker, at the right time. Clarke had felt the potential of deeper feelings for him stir inside, but they were fully gone now. All that was left was the dull ache of a friend that you're in the process of losing. Loyalty and honesty were everything to her. Forgiveness didn't come naturally to her. She was working on it.

Clarke pushed those saddening thoughts away as well, focusing instead on what had happened in Bellamy's tent earlier that day. She knew that she'd had a breakdown. She didn't regret what she had said, exactly. Her emotions had gotten the better of her without a doubt, but something had to have been said. Bellamy never got reprimanded for his selfish actions. However, she knew that, like Bellamy said, her past had dark areas too; some that she hoped would never be exposed to the sunlight again. And you shouldn't be judged for solely your past. Clarke remembered Bellamy shout, "whatever the hell we want," during their first days on the Ground, instigating turmoil in their camp. But over the time that followed, she'd watched him change. She still thought he was an arrogant asshole sometimes, but she also had caught glimpses of his softer side. _Maybe I'll apologize_ , she thought, leaning her head back against the wall. For some reason, she felt excitement at the thought of talking to him again. This feeling surprised her, as did the warmth that spread through her body when she realized their interaction could lead to him touching her again….

She shook her head to stop those thoughts from going any further. Angry with herself, she crossed her arms and scanned the forest surrounding their camp, forcing her mind to be blank.

Bellamy walked through the center of camp. "Where's Clarke?" he asked Jasper as he walked by.

"Watch, I think," Jasper answered, shuffling from foot to foot. Bellamy knew he made him nervous. "Tower B? By the way, do you know… have you seen recently… umm… where's Octavia?" Jasper eventually stammered the words out. Bellamy was already walking away. Jasper's crush on his sister was pathetic, but also endearing, in a completely pathetic way. And Bellamy could never forget that Jasper did save his Octavia's life once.

"She's in her tent," he called over his shoulder, nearly able to hear the spring in Jasper's footsteps as he practically skipped towards her tent. Bellamy let out a half smile as he headed towards the watchtower. He didn't really know why he was heading to see Clarke. His feet had taken him out of the comfort of his bed when he'd been unable to sleep, and they apparently had a specific destination in mind. Now that they both had calmed down, he did want to make sure she knew how sorry he was about his decision. He didn't think he'd actually ever be able to say those words because admitting Clarke was right was beyond comprehension for him, but he could try and communicate it in his own way. What that way was, however, was still unknown to him as he started to climb the short ladder into the lookout.

Clarke swiveled around to look at him as he crawled into the small space. He sat beside her, so they were shoulder to shoulder. "Evening, Princess," he said, smiling when he saw her frown at the nickname. He knew she hated it.

"Good evening," she responded, coolly. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Just thought it looked like a beautiful night for a stroll," Bellamy said, looking at the stars out the window. The moonlight was shining down on her face, illuminating her skin and making her blonde hair shine. _She looks beautiful_ , Bellamy shocked himself with his own thought. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, trying to focus on directing the conversation towards what he wanted – or rather, needed – to say.

"Yes," Clarke said. She looked like she wanted to say more, but remained silent. They sat quietly for a minute before they both started to speak at the same time. "I'm sor—," Clarke began.

"Listen-," Bellamy said. They both fell quiet, then laughed. Bellamy wanted to get what he said out, so he continued. "I just wanted you to know that I do regret what I did with the radio. It was selfish. But I didn't know about Jaha… I only came down here for Octavia and that would be for nothing if I died when everybody followed us down. I did something stupid, and I know, and I'm going to regret it from this day forward. So… yeah. I just wanted you to know that," he trailed off, not meeting her eyes.

Clarke was looking sideways at him. She had never, _ever_ , heard Bellamy admit that he was at fault for _anything_ before this. It genuinely surprised her. She felt the frost she usually felt towards him melt slightly, helped along by the fire her right side was experiencing from being in contact with him. "I was out of line," she said quietly. "You're not a monster. You're also not a child. You didn't need a reprimanding. I let my emotions get the better of me. I'm sorry."

Bellamy looked at her in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever heard those two words leave her lips before this instance, even if she did part with them slightly grudgingly. "Never thought I'd hear you say that, Princess," he said, smirking.

Clarke groaned. "And there's the Bellamy I know. I didn't even recognize you when you were apologizing. Or trying to anyway." Bellamy chuckled.

They sat in companionable silence, listening to the sounds of the world around them. It was a moment of peace when so much of their world recently had been in chaos. Eventually, Bellamy stirred. "Best be going to bed," he said. His tone was gruff though. He looked at Clarke while he said it, his dark eyes meeting her blue. Clarke felt her heart beat faster. "Good night."

"Good night," Clarke replied, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn't understand the sudden rush of blood pumping through her veins or why her skin felt like she was being lightly electrocuted. She watched Bellamy turn to climb down the ladder out of the lookout, but he paused at the opening. Clarke's brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly Bellamy turned around and closed the short distance between them.

His hand reach up to cup her cheek as his lips pressed against hers. Clarke's eyes widened in shock. She rapidly pulled back, her eyes searching his for any hint of an explanation. Bellamy didn't offer one. Instead, he simply met her gaze. His eyes were bright in the moonlight. He slowly was leaning back in, keeping his eyes on her the whole time, making sure she didn't back away again. She could see his eyes taunting her, daring her to refuse him. Clarke stayed still, her own fluttering between his and his lips. She realized, as heat coursed through her entire body, that the last thing she wanted was to refuse him.

Clarke closed the distance between their lips this time. Their mouths collided. There was no hesitation now. Clarke's arms encircled his neck as Bellamy's hands grabbed her waist and slid her across the floor closer to him. His tongue parted her teeth and explored the inside of her mouth. One of his hands wrapped tightly in her hair, pushing their faces even closer, and Clarke groaned against his grasp. The kiss was all fire, pure heat between the two of them. Their tongues danced together. It was hard and intense; his sudden passion heating Clarke up in places that she didn't know could be warmed.

All of the sudden, Bellamy pulled sharply back. His breathing was ragged. "The watch switches soon," he said firmly. "I'm going to my tent now." And just like that, he climbed down the ladder and was gone. Clarke sat still for a moment before leaning back against the wooden wall, her heart racing. She had the last half hour of her shift to think about what exactly had just happened. _It's Bellamy Blake, the same cocky, arrogant, self-centered one you usually can't stand to look at. What the hell are you doing_? she thought, putting her head in her hands. She also had that time to think about why she had enjoyed it so goddamn much. _Why is the only thing you want is to do it again?_ Clarke absentmindedly ran her fingers down her side and across her stomach, closing her eyes, imagining that the touch came from someone else's hand.She definitely needed to think about what she was going to do once her watch ended. _Oh god…_


End file.
